


Happiness at the Bottom of a Bottle

by Satelesque



Series: According to Plan [2]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Background Fluff, Complicated Relationships, Dialogue Heavy, Drinking, Everyone wants Charlie to be happy, F/F, Family Issues, Peer Pressure, Toasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22249180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satelesque/pseuds/Satelesque
Summary: Charlie is less than pleased at Alastor's choice of leisure activity.  Alastor has no intention of apologizing, but a toast might be just the thing to get Charlie to stop frowning at him.Vaggie just wants what's best for Charlie, Angel just wants a drink, Husk is a resigned co-conspirator, and Niffty gets dragged into the fun.Follows Playing with Fire but can absolutely be read on its own.
Relationships: Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Series: According to Plan [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601629
Comments: 2
Kudos: 67





	Happiness at the Bottom of a Bottle

Charlie was frowning.

Everything else was as usual in the lobby of the Happy Hotel. Husk was manning the front desk and barely looked up from his bottle as Alastor strode in. Across from him, her arm around Charlie’s shoulders, was Vaggie. Her glare was as distrusting as ever and angry on Charlie’s behalf on top of it, but frowning was expected from her. Just a weakness of her character.

But Charlie? Charlie had a lovely smile, and she’d show it more if she’d just accept that some things couldn’t be changed. A nearby radio tuned itself to some lively swing as Alastor strode over, only to meet Vaggie’s speartip halfway across the room. “Stay away from Charlie you murderous—“

Alastor tuned her out around the point where her speech slipped into Spanish. It was something insulting, surely. Something that might have been threatening if it came from the mouth of a threat. Alas, it was impossible to see her as one with naked outrage written all across her face. Alastor gave her barely a passing glance as he walked into her spear, his form dissolving into shadows the moment it made contact.

“A fine evening to you, my dear,” he said as the shadows coalesced on a bar stool next to Charlie’s. Glass hit the counter with a heavy tap as he set down the bottle he’d been holding.

Charlie looked at it then at him with an honest attempt to hide her disappointment. As she realized it wasn’t working she looked back down to the counter. “Al—“

“Come now Charlie. A resounding victory deserves a good toast, and you won’t make me drink this all by myself, will you?” The glasses hanging above the bar were just in reach, and Alastor grabbed a couple as he went on. “It’s an excellent vintage, fine as anything gets that’s made here in hell. Stronger than in the land of the living but just as good, I’ve been told. Ha! I’ll be the judge of—“

“Al!” Charlie took a deep breath and forced herself to look at him. “I'm . . .“ A pained look pinched her brows, and she looked away again. “I'm not in the mood.”

Now that just wouldn't do.

“My dear girl,” Alastor said. “You knew who I was the moment you slammed the front door in my face. I’ve never pretended to be one of your guests. Don't you pretend you expected me to be.”

For a moment Charlie flinched at the reminder. Her mouth opened, but before any words could come out, Vaggie’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. All the tension leaked out of them as Charlie leaned into the embrace and sighed. “I know.”

A sharp pop sounded as Alastor grinned and uncorked the bottle. “Fantastic news! Can’t let these things hang over us forever, then. A toast, to working together despite our differences!”

And it was as if to spite his efforts that Vaggie continued to whisper in Charlie’s ear and pull on her shoulder. Her dedication to distrust was admirable but woefully misguided. There’d be no harm in raising Charlie’s spirits, and at least Charlie had the sense to hesitate before she stood up. “I don't know,” she said. “I shouldn’t.”

This was exactly the problem with people. This refusal to indulge in happiness. A martyr’s desperate need to wallow in misery at troubles beyond their control. Alastor’s eyes narrowed, half in irritation and half in thought as counterarguments flitted through his head.

The decision was taken away from him as Husk cleared his throat. Everyone's heads turned as he slammed an empty bottle on the desk and turned a bland stare toward Charlie. “Look, kid. If you're not gonna drink it, I will. This guy doesn't buy the cheap shit. Not for himself, anyway. And especially not when he’s sharing. I ain’t gonna be the one to turn that down.”

And somehow it was him that finally got Charlie to pause, flustered like she was worried that taking one more step would be rude. That Alastor sharing with her might’ve been an attempt to make amends, but sharing with Husk would only reinforce old habits. Or perhaps it was simpler. It’d one thing to bow out but another entirely to get called out on it. Whatever Charlie’s reasons, Alastor took full advantage. Two more glasses came down from the rack as he poured.

“Why Husker, you're as much a part of this venture as we are! And you, Vaggie, you’ve been with Charlie from the start! We may have our disagreements, but what say you all to a toast to getting this hotel on its feet?” Alastor took one of the glasses and raised it high.

In the corner of his eye Alastor could see Husk itching to grab his own glass, but he was familiar by now with how Alastor operated. He could hear the music subtly pitching up, suffusing the lobby with its merry beat. He knew how to read a room.

And everyone was waiting for Charlie.

She was still tense, one hand on the counter but ready to walk away, when slowly the corners of her mouth raised in an uncertain smile. It must have been her first, Alastor guessed, since his broadcast earlier that day. Her hand reached out to raise a second glass.

“Hear, hear?”

Husk followed her lead with a grumble, and only Vaggie remained. It took an attempt at a disarming smile from Alastor and an encouraging one from Charlie, but finally she grabbed the last glass with a resigned, "Hear, hear."

No sooner had their glasses clinked together than Husk’s drink was gone, thrown back immediately regardless of the taste. Vaggie wasn’t much slower. She gave the liquid a skeptical glance and downed it in two long sips, anxious to be gone. And for all the progress in cheering her up, Charlie wasn't far behind her.

Only Alastor took a small, slow sip, partly to savor the taste—the rich half-sweet half-tartness of whatever grape-tangent berries would grow in hell—and partly because he knew who was about to round the corner. The patter of quick footsteps slowed, stopped, and was replaced by the crash of dropped cleaning supplies and a high-pitched squeak.

“Oh! Everyone's here!”

The other three turned to look at Niffty, who only then seemed to notice how dusty she was. Her hands flitted through her hair and started patting dust bunnies off her smock while Alastor stood and took another glass from the counter.

“Why if it isn't Niffty! We were just celebrating our future as business partners, but it would ring ever so hollow with one of us missing. Now that we’re all here we should do it properly!” The glass, now full, ended up in her hand as Alastor made the rounds, refilling everyone’s glasses but his own. “To the future of the hotel!”

“To the Happy Hotel,” Charlie echoed, a touch more enthusiastically this time. Her arm wrapped around Vaggie’s shoulders, their glasses clinked together before anybody else’s, and for once even Vaggie had a small smile on her lips.

Hardly a moment after they’d taken a sip, though, Angel followed Niffty around the same corner. “Oy, Niffty!” he shouted. “You tracked dust across the whole—hey! How come I wasn't invited?”

“Because you're supposed to be in recovery,” Vaggie started, but Angel just groaned and rolled his eyes at her.

“How about you cool it a bit, toots? One glass ain't a sin. Hell, it’s part of the sacrament! I ain’t gonna get drunk off a toast, so how about it? To redemption or something.”

Vaggie was still glaring, so Angel wisely panned his gaze over to Charlie as she finished her own drink. “I don’t think one glass would hurt,” she said hesitantly, then looked over to Alastor. “But the bottle's—“

“Empty!” Alastor flipped it over to demonstrate, then turned back to the bar. “Husker, if you would be a pal and pass Charlie a new one?”

“And none of your usual horse piss!” Angel chimed in. “If I'm gonna get to drink, it deserves to be something that wasn't bottled in a fucki– freaking sewer.”

Husk looked to Alastor, got nothing but a smile in response, and shrugged. “Whatever. You're the one who pays for this shit anyway.” Bottles clinked as he pushed them aside to grab one from the back of a shelf. He uncorked it, poured a glass, and held a hand out to Charlie. “Your glass, hon,” he added when she gave him a confused look. “Takes two to toast.”

The uncertainty was written all over her face, but she couldn't turn down a toast to redemption. She passed her glass over, hesitated, then added, “Not so full this time, okay?”

Husk obligingly filled her glass almost full before pouring his own and another for Angel. The man in question strode over, cutting through the tension like a knife. He grabbed his glass, took the bottle from where Husk left it, and gave it a wave.

“Great! Anyone else joining in on this? Vaggie?” Angel was filling her glass even as he asked. Distracted as she was with Charlie, it ended up half full before she swiped it and shot him a glare.

Angel jerked the bottle upright before it could spill on the counter and shot one back. “Yeesh! You'd think we were toasting dead babies or something. How 'bout it Al . . .” It took one look at Alastor for him to reconsider. “Yeah, never mind. You'd sooner toast the babies. You'll have a glass, right, Niffty?”

The smaller demon had just wandered over after finishing her first, but she raised it for Angel to refill anyway.

“Great! Then here's to self-betterment and all that jazz!” He held his glass high, earning an enthusiastic cheer from Charlie and Niffty, a bland one from Husk, and a resigned one from Vaggie. Each of them took a gulp, and Vaggie finally pulled Charlie away to the other end of the lobby before she could get dragged into any more toasts.

“You're welcome,” Husk grumbled once they were out of earshot.

“Oh, yeah, thanks!” Angel replied, but Husk rolled his eyes.

“Not you, and give me back that bottle.” Angel refilled Husk's glass instead, and that seemed to satisfy him enough to let Angel keep it and top off his own. “I'm talking to the guy who'd only ever thank someone if it'd piss 'em off.”

That was probably accurate. Alastor gave the two a grin before turning away and continuing to sip at his drink. It was a shame that in the end he’d only had one glass, but at times like these it was more entertaining to watch everyone else get drunk and blunder about than do so himself. He could still see Husk and Angel in the corner of his eye, and the two did nothing to disprove the point.

“So what'd ya do anyway?” Angel asked after tipping back his glass.

“Get Charlie to stick around for a toast,” Husk answered.

“Huh? That's it?”

Husk grumbled and tapped his claws on the counter. “Look, it's not like I go sticking my neck out every day. He should be grateful for that much.”

“Then why'd you do it? What's the point?”

As if on cue, Charlie's laughter rang out through the lobby. Husk gestured to where she was sitting on a couch with Vaggie, both of them smiling brightly. “That's why.”

“You wanted to get Charlie drunk?” Angel asked. Then, more incredulously,  _ “Al _ wanted to get Charlie drunk? The hell for?”

Alastor could hear the smack of Husk’s paw hitting his forehead. “You're missing the point. Look, she's  _ happy.” _

“She's always happy,” Angel said, sounding confused until he clapped his hands together. “Oh! I've gotcha. Her girl won't put out unless  _ she's _ drunk, so—“

“Fucking hell Angel! You think we—? No, you know what, never mind.” There came the telltale clink of glass and splash of liquid as Husk refilled his glass. “You didn't see her sulking earlier, but let me tell you, this is a damn sight better.”

“So what had her panties in a twist anyway?”

“You didn't hear the radio?”

“Ha! Goddamn hard to miss it! Maybe tune it down a bit next time, pal,” Angel leaned back to meet eyes with Alastor, who gave him a chuckle and a noncommittal shrug. “Great, thanks,” Angel said, then turned back to Husk. “But what's that got to do with it? We all know Al ain't exactly a bundle of sunshine and rainbows.”

Husk let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, except Charlie there wishes he was. Wishes we all were.”

“Yeah, and I wish I was the archduke of the Lower Pentagram. What’s your point?”

It was about then that Alastor got up to leave the two. There wasn’t much fun to be had listening to one jaded soul explain to another that some people were simply unable to abandon their hopes. Or if not abandon them then at least temper their expectations. It didn’t befit Charlie to be brought so low by one broadcast.

Much better was seeing her giggle as Niffty staggered by and climbed into her lap to straighten her tie. Evidently body mass still mattered when it came to alcohol, even in hell.

It also gave Alastor an excuse to finish his drink and stride over.

“Good evening, ladies. Niffty, it seems about time for you to turn in.”

“Just a minute,” she said, holding out a hand to wave him off. ”Charlie’s wearing . . .” She squinted her eye and tilted her head. “Charlie, why’re you wearing three bowties? Here, I’ll just—“

Alastor reached in to pull her off Charlie’s lap, but not before Niffty yanked one end of the tie and undid the knot.

“It’s fine,” Charlie giggled as Alastor deposited Niffty on the other end of the couch where she immediately curled up against a pillow. “Really, Vaggie, I’ve got this,” Charlie repeated, swatting her girlfriend’s hands away from her collar. “You know you’re no good with ties.”

Unfortunately Charlie herself wasn’t any better at the moment. Her fingers kept fumbling against the cloth, the loops slipping from her grip before she could tighten them.

“Allow me,” Alastor said as he pushed her hands away. By the time Charlie got two words out in protest, he’d knotted and straightened the bowtie with a quick, practiced motion.

Two glares were suddenly aimed his way from the couch, but one of them cracked and turned into a pout. “I still don’t forgive you,” Charlie said.

“My dear Charlie,” Alastor answered. “I can’t recall ever asking for your forgiveness.”

That brought the glare back, but only for a second. “No,” she giggled. “I guess not. That’s good, since you woooon’t get it!” Charlie started with a finger pointed at him, but it flew up to the ceiling as she collapsed back onto the couch with a laugh.

Maybe this time Vaggie’s ire was the slightest bit justified. Hell’s drinks tended to be on the strong side, both to cover the taste and to cater to sinners who’d built up a tolerance. Princess of hell or not, Charlie clearly had next to none, which wasn’t exactly part of the plan.

“’Sides,” Charlie went on. “I’m not mad at  _ you _ . I know you’re not a guest, I  _ know it. _ I just . . . I thought maybe . . . maybe if you could change your mind, then so would . . . Did Niffty fall asleep?”

Sure enough, the soft, high-pitched snores traced back to the other side of the couch. Alastor nudged Niffty’s shoulder, but she only mumbled and gripped tighter to her pillow. Nor did she move when he lifted her into his arms, pillow and all. Charlie meanwhile seemed to be following Niffty’s lead, scooting closer to Vaggie and resting her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder.

At least both of them were smiling again. “I suppose I’ll be taking Niffty to her room now. You should consider getting some sleep yourself, Charlie. Have a good night.”

“G’night, dad,” Charlie mumbled from the couch, and Alastor froze mid-step. It was Vaggie, though, who spared him the trouble of having to ask.

“Charlie?” she said.

“Yeah?”

“You know you’re at the hotel, right?”

“Yeah. That’s why you’re here.” Charlie tried to curl herself up closer to Vaggie’s side, but Vaggie took her by the shoulders to make eye contact.

“And you know that’s Alastor, not your dad?”

“Well, duh. Why are looking at me like—oh. Oh.” She turned to Alastor and somehow managed to turn even redder. “Shit, Al, sorry. I didn’t mean—you’re just sort of alike, you know?” That earned her a raised brow, and words came tumbling out in an attempt to explain herself.

“It’s — you’re both smiling all the time, and you’re both kind of scary but not to me, and you’re helping with the hotel even though you think I’m a—I’m . . . uh . . . and—and you fixed my tie and called me ‘dear’ and said ‘good night,’ and—“

“Charlie,” Alastor cut in. “It’s been a pleasure, but you really should go to your room and get some sleep.”

Far from calming down, Charlie broke into hysterical giggles. “Don’t—don’t tell me to go to my room Al! You’re not my dad.” Another burst of laughter at her own joke had her burying her head in Vaggie’s hair. A few seconds later, she caught her breath enough to aim a sidelong peek at Alastor. “You’re not mad?”

“Not in the slightest, my dear. We all misspeak sometimes, moreso when we’re not ourselves.”

Charlie looked for a moment like she was going to argue, but then she just sighed. “Thanks, Al. Good night.”

“Good night, Charlie,”he said, then turned on his heel down the hall toward Niffty’s bedroom. From behind came the sound of Vaggie’s murmur and another fit of giggles.

“Poor Charlie,” said a quiet voice in Alastor’s arms. Niffty was still curled up with the pillow, and her eye was still closed, but her snoring had been silent for minutes now.

“How long have you been awake?” Alastor asked.

“Since you picked me up. Didn’t wanna move,” she said, then let out a wide yawn.

It was rare to see her like this, tired and calm instead of hyperactive and darting around the hotel. It often left her oddly clearheaded too, perhaps because her thoughts were forced to slow from their breakneck pace.

“What was that about Charlie?”

”. . . What was what about Charlie?”

Not this time, though. Evidently it wasn’t enough to overcome the drunkenness.

But after a minute of walking silently down the hall, after Alastor opened the door to her room without her so much as moving, Niffty finally mumbled an answer into the pillow.

“She just wants her dad to be proud, you know? And he’s not gonna be, but it’s okay since the hotel’s a good place. And you’re here.”

“Niffty, my dear, what does my presence have to do with anything?”

“That’s easy. She’s not mad  _ at _ you, she’s mad because she likes you.” Niffty turned her head to peek at Alastor and saw him raise a skeptical brow. “Not like  _ that _ , silly. Like a friend or—oh! An uncle! And yoooou . . .” She wearily raised an arm, spun her wrist in a circle, and poked a finger at Alastor’s chest. “Like her too.”

Her sentence ended in a squeak as Alastor dropped her onto her bed.

There was no denying it, not if Husk and Niffty had both picked up on it. There was an infectious charm around Charlie, and without it the Happy Hotel would have been just another decrepit old inn. Without it she would never have caught Alastor’s eye.

The only catch was that she poured all that spirit straight into hell’s version of fairy tales. Rainbows and clouds and puppies and sweets, as if she’d heard the stories from fallen sinners and refused to let them go. But this was hell, and hell was no place for dreams. Hopes, maybe; ambitions, certainly; but not dreams. It was a wonder Charlie’s had gone on this long.

One day, inevitably, she would wake up. She’d open her eyes and know that the only gates her guests would check out of were the hotel’s front doors. That to see a rainbow she’d have to claw her way up to the mortal world, whether through magic or deals or both. The only shame would be if that was the day she stopped smiling.

But if she didn’t, hell would have to brace itself for the rise of its princess, and what a sight it would be.

Niffty took Alastor’s silence for what it was, a quiet acceptance and a subtle, unspoken threat. “Don’t worry,” she mumbled into her sheets as she tucked herself in. “My lips are sealed.”

Alastor hummed and made his way back to the door. “Good night, Niffty,” he said as he closed it behind him. There was no reply. Perhaps she was already asleep.

Standing in the hallway left him with a decision, go back to the lobby or make his way to the room he’d co-opted for his own use. The choice was simple. He turned to the right and made his way up a set of stairs. It had been an eventful day, and he’d earned a moment to relax and savor the memories.

Change was on the horizon, after all, and it would start here at this hotel. The movements of one big name always drew the eyes of others, and where there were eyes and a stage, people would come to put on a show.

And Charlie would be at the center of it, the focus of the beginning and the end, whatever form it took. Perhaps—as everyone but her and a few hopefuls expected—she’d accept the truth and become the princess of hell she’d been destined to be.

Or perhaps, by some miracle, she’d prove everyone wrong. Dreams would become reality, the gates of heaven would open for some lowly sinner, and everyone would have proof it could be done. Alastor let the image play in his head for a moment before laughing, stepping into his room, and closing the door behind him. Charlie really did have a way with words—or song to be more accurate—if she’d managed to get even him to contemplate it.

It didn’t matter though. Didn’t matter what script Charlie followed, didn’t matter what finale she reached. No matter where the plot led, the next scene was sure to be very entertaining.


End file.
